


Omnipotence, I

by bluebells



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 06, Torture, coda fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, there wasn't really anywhere to run where Castiel wouldn't find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omnipotence, I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ravenspear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenspear/gifts).



> Originally written [here](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/250084.html?view=50080996#t50080996) and re-posted here for [](http://ravenspear.livejournal.com/profile)[**ravenspear**](http://ravenspear.livejournal.com/) in [](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/)**comment_fic** because I am still coming off the high of this episode.

In the end, there wasn't really anywhere to run where Castiel wouldn't find him.

Crowley has had a good run of it. Four days. He had hoped to last the week, maybe see the wind-carved stone of the Eurasian valleys once again (its howl like the ecstasy of Hell’s inner circles, without the humidity), but he thinks that after four days… it’s respectable.

And it’s worth seeing the way Castiel’s mouth curves in that slow, dark smile when Crowley finally turns around. It’s worth seeing the glaze in the former angel’s blue, blue eyes as though Castiel is looking through and beyond him with sight extended by the power of what must seem like a bottomless reservoir of life to something so small.

Castiel is drunk with it. It shows in that uncharacteristically smug look that lifts his chin in challenge, in the insouciant measure of his steps that close the distance between them, knowing there is no comparison now; Crowley is the rat king of hell who double-crossed the cat that shook free of his net to discover he was a lion.

Every line of Castiel’s vessel glows with his new power and Crowley wonders if that vessel will last, if Castiel has now imbued it with the strength worthy to vassal a God and spare it from splitting at the seams.

 _Defy me_ , Castiel’s air commands.

Crowley just smiles. “Hello, sweetheart.”

The air around them thickens with a charge of more than electricity: it’s novae and creation, and it fills Crowley like the heady, invigorating tang of death before new life. Castiel’s fingers hover at his lips when his mouth falls open with a gasp, trailing into a chuckle feeling Castiel’s power tremble through him like so many waves of deep bass sound and water.

“You crossed me,” Castiel says.

“You bucked the deal first, love.” Crowley’s lips chap and burn when Castiel brushes them with his thumb. He feels blood trickle down his chin. “I was just following the trend.”

“You will bow and pledge yourself and _all_ Hell’s souls to me, your true Lord.”

Castiel’s smile is sure and fascinated as he searches the demon’s face. Crowley thinks Castiel is enamoured with the sound of his new voice and an excited sparkle enters those blue eyes in that final command. Lord.

Crowley knows he doesn’t stand a chance. But it’s still Castiel and old habits die hard. “In the past I might have considered getting on my knees for—“

Castiel’s hand clenches into a fist before his face and Crowley erupts in flames before he can finish. He burns, sparks, and chokes on the ash of his own essence of Hell, but he does not die.

Castiel’s eyes glitter with patient joy.

He keeps Crowley poised on that brink between life and death as Crowley’s throat tears in cinders around his screams, convulsing with the shock of his agony. It feels like he burns for years until he doesn’t feel at all, until his screams strangle without the last threads of his voice box, until he only sees blue eyes alight with glory, and Crowley surrenders himself to the fire.

Castiel leans in and breathes life back into him, a cool rush of mercy past Crowley’s lips, and the demon crumbles to his knees in a pile of his own ashes.

He shakes with every breath of air, abrupt and unfamiliar, as Castiel’s hand curls around the back of his head.

“Hail me.” Castiel soothes and Crowley hears the offer of kindness and grace on the blade’s edge.

Castiel towers, relaxed and pleased within his omnipotence, and Crowley drinks in the sight of the wonderful creature the angel has become. In a detached part of himself that isn't still trembling with the aftershocks of his restoration, Crowley feels pride and a sense of accountability, like he'd had a hand in the birth of humankind's new God. In part, he did.

Crowley’s breath fans hot against Castiel’s palm when he turns his head.

It’s wretched agony when his new flesh pulls into a smirk, but he can’t stop his nature.

“--Full of grace, blessed art thou most worthy and blessed art—“

Castiel’s fingers curl into his hair and Crowley buckles within the second inferno.

He misses his chance to scream this time.


End file.
